


(the stars and the moon) don't shine quite like we do

by heartunsettledsoul



Series: Forgotten Moments [18]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 3x01 compliant, Missing Scene, Part two contains all of the emotions and none of the horniness, but mainly just horny teenagers, just FYI, there's some emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-02 15:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16307753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartunsettledsoul/pseuds/heartunsettledsoul
Summary: It’s why she’s using her best “don’t fuck with me” voice despite the shake she hopes no one else can hear, why she throws a “Serpent queen” into her argument despite the way the words feel strange and foreign on her tongue.Betty doesn’t want him to say no.And he doesn’t.or, a missing 3x01 moment.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write some ~emotions. I ended up with this. I'm not sorry. 
> 
> title from Kesha's Hymn.

“If you’re on the frontlines, then so am I,” Betty tells him. 

There’s a barely detectable wobble in her voice, fueled by that small part of her that’s still worried Jughead will keep pushing her away to keep her safe. It’s something they’re working on, they’re getting better at, but here in front of, yes their friends, but still Serpents Jughead is supposed to be in charge of, she worries. She wouldn’t blame him if he used this opportunity to assert his leadership; she’d given him hell later, to be sure, but she wouldn’t necessarily be surprised. 

It’s why she’s using her best “don’t fuck with me” voice despite the shake she hopes no one else can hear, why she throws a “Serpent queen” into her argument despite the way the words feel strange and foreign on her tongue. 

Betty doesn’t want him to say no. 

And he doesn’t. 

Instead, Jughead declares they’re getting Hot Dog back no matter what and Betty gets a glimpse of the softer side of him that she loves so much, the one that has his childhood stuffed animal on his nightstand and that says hello to Vegas before anyone else in the Andrews’ house. The Jughead that’s about to bring them all on a ridiculous reconnaissance mission to rescue their beloved mutt. 

That glimpse is instantly eclipsed by  _ another  _ side of Jughead that Betty loves just as much, though in a very different way. He fixes her with such a heated smirk that she knows she’s about to be putty in his hands; they’re still in mixed company but the way Jughead looks like he’s ready to devour her has Betty using all her willpower not to squeeze her thighs together in search of relief. 

(Sometimes it still catches her off guard, how much Jughead  _ wants  _ her. There’s never been any question in how much love they hold for each other and the spark of mutual desire fanned into a flame the night of Veronica’s confirmation, a flame that has yet to burn out and that Betty hopes never will. But every once in a while, Jughead will look at her with such intense need that it steals her breath away. He’s always so reverent and loving, even in their more  _ experimental  _ sexual encounters, so Betty treasures moments like these when he shows a little less restraint.)

Everyone else seems to notice the air change in the room and makes their excuses, muttering or rolling their eyes as they make their exits. Assuming that Jughead needs to go gameplan with Fangs, Betty turns to follow Cheryl and Toni out until a hand wraps around her wrist to yank her back. 

“Where ya going, Betts?” Jughead spins her so her back is pressed against his front and she can feel him growing hard against her. 

She lets the tension drain from her body as she relaxes into his touch, but keeps her gaze firmly on the glass-paneled doors that lead to a crowd of all their friends in an effort to not give into what she knows they both want in that moment. 

“I figured you needed to—” Jughead starts trailing kisses down her neck, moving one strap of her bathing suit down her shoulder, and the resulting shudder ruins her train of thought. “ _ Jug, _ ” she whines. “There’s people outside. Everyone will know what we’re doing.” 

(Does she care anymore? Betty thinks she might not care.) 

“So what?” murmurs Jughead. “It’s hot when you’re bossy like that. Fangs and Sweet Pea will rally the troops. We’ve—” he punctuates each word with a light nip at her skin “—got—time.” 

(She definitely doesn’t care now.)

“We have to be quick,” Betty breathes in a rush, twisting in his grip to connect her lips to his own. 

“Not a problem,” Jughead replies. He grasps at her hips and steers them away from the door, into an alcove of the pool house that seems safely hidden from view, all the while kissing her hungrily. When he’s backed her up against a corner, Betty hitches one leg up to bring them even closer together and Jughead gasps into her mouth. “If you keep telling me what to do, this’ll be over before it even starts.” 

Betty grins into their kiss. It’s satisfying, really, knowing how much she can turn him on just by being herself. 

They’ve had all summer to keep exploring each other’s bodies and though there’s still miles to go and hopefully years to come of them perfecting touches and movements, they’ve made some amazing progress. Speed—on her end, anyway—isn’t necessarily one of the skills they’ve conquered. Once Betty had the brilliant (her word) and questionable, but clever (Jughead’s words) idea to use therapy as a cover to get out of the house for a few hours with no questions asked, the two of them have used the time to their advantage to lock the doors to the recently-relocated Jones trailer and have their way with each other. 

They’re used to careful planning and having plenty of time for Jughead to get her off first before one of them climbs on the other and finishes the work. With time, Betty’s quiet direction, and Jughead’s already-skilled hands and mouth, they’ve reached a point where Betty always finishes—and on an exciting couple of occasions, sometimes finishes  _ twice _ . 

Trying to accomplish this on a time crunch, and in a semi-public location no less, is new.

Jughead, to his credit, seems more than up to the challenge.

His fingers stroke lightly over the material of her suit, catching her where it feels best on every pass, and he’s peeled down the top to expose one breast, which he’s paying an extreme amount of attention to with his tongue.

Even if Jughead is the only one to finish, Betty thinks, this feels  _ incredible.  _

Betty lets her head fall back against the wall, soaking in every sensation, every press of his fingers, every thrust against her hip. He separates from her nipple with a pop and makes his way back up to her mouth, running his tongue along her bottom lip before catching it with his teeth briefly. She whimpers and then hears his satisfied chuckle. 

In lazy retaliation, Betty slips her hand underneath his shorts to grip him firmly and smiles when she hears him utter an oath into her skin. 

“What was that?” she teases. 

Jughead pulls back to roll his eyes and kiss the smirk off her face. “I  _ said,”  _ he grumbles. “Fuck this one piece you’re wearing because it’s making things incredibly difficult.” He palms her breast with the hand not sneaking under the material at her center. 

“You started this,” Betty moans, feeling his fingers press up into her. “Make it work.” 

He moves harder against her and runs his teeth lightly against the shell of her ear before whispering, “As you wish.” 

Their heavy breaths mingle, foreheads resting together, as hands move faster and faster, moans grow louder, and Jughead groans his release into Betty’s chest before circling his thumb roughly against her and helping her reach her high that she muffles by biting her lip hard enough she thinks she tastes blood. 

It’s obvious what they were doing when they exit the pool house, faces flushed and hair distinctly mussed, but nobody calls them on it. 

(Cheryl does raise a manicured eyebrow at Betty, who blushes furiously and hides her face in Jughead’s shoulder.) 

Later that night, when Jughead hands Betty her own leather jacket from the hook next to the trailer door and she slips the still-stiff material over her shoulders, she can’t help but feel even closer to him. This time she’s the one to stop him from walking out the door, pulling him to her to press a kiss on his cheek and hug him tightly. 

“Thank you for letting me do this with you,” she whispers into the worn collar against his neck. 

“Hey,” Jughead says gently, moving to cradle her face in his palm. “We’re in this together now. I’m always gonna want you by my side.” 

Betty smiles and kisses him softly. “Hopefully it’s just for more dog rescues and not for walking into certain death.” 

“Fingers crossed.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He groans when his phone vibrates with another message. He’s never felt more like scum than he does in this moment; he’s supposed to be there for Betty, after all the insane things she’s gone through in the last year, all the times she didn’t ask for help, and the one time she actually does, he is across town doing something completely idiotic.
> 
> or, a 3x01 post-ep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is your warning that this contains all of the emotions/angst of part one (and more!), but none of the smut

As he’d raced through the woods with nothing but Dilton’s compass and his own flashlight, Jughead knew he was being an idiot. At the  _ very  _ least, he should have told Betty what he was doing. 

They’ve had this conversation a dozen times over. they’re not supposed to be keeping the other in the dark about anything. This summer, above anything else, has taught them that. Betty doesn’t love him in charge of the Serpents—neither does he, if he’s being honest—but she still wants to know what’s going on; Jughead  _ really  _ doesn’t love Betty taking her old Adderall prescription to help stay focused on Archie’s case or lying about therapy when he thinks she probably needs it for real—though he can’t complain about the guaranteed twice-weekly, uninterrupted time for sex—but he is at least glad she’s told him what she’s doing. 

If he doesn’t meet his untimely end by some fairytale-esque monster in these woods, he’d thought, Betty is going to  _ kill _ him in the morning. 

He also really hadn’t wanted to call Sheriff Minetta. If anything, he’s warmed up enough to former-Sheriff Keller that Jughead might have called him first and asked him to call the sentient piece of garbage masquerading as an officer of the law. (Keller had his faults, obviously. Jughead won’t forget being yanked out of school and interrogated anytime soon, nor the time Southside High was raided simply for the existence of gang symbols. But at least Keller never sent an innocent kid out into a mob to die.) 

The moment Ben moaned and started coughing, though, Jughead knew he had no choice. He dialed 911 and shouted a vague location to the responder, hoping somebody would show up soon. He thinks he might remember the basics of CPR, but doesn’t exactly trust that whatever—poison, he guesses—his classmates have swallowed won’t kill him on the spot either. 

Instead he takes as many photos of the scene on his phone as he can, only seeing quick glimpses of the wider horror when the camera flash lights up the area. Jughead fights nausea when he snaps a couple pictures of the gruesome symbols carved into Dilton’s back;  _ another  _ classmate is dead, this time one he knew pretty well and didn’t actually mind, and he doesn’t quite know how to process that. 

It’s then that he notices he’s missed a few texts from Betty: one telling him she couldn’t sleep again, and then another nearly a full hour later, about twenty minutes before, reading  _ SOS need you at my mom’s.  _ And as he’s reading that one, another comes in:  _ please hurry! _

“Fuck,” he yells into the silence. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck.  _

He can’t  _ not  _ go to help Betty with whatever is going down at the Cooper house— _ again _ . He’s beginning to think that house might be cursed—but he also has inadvertently made himself responsible for one dead and one barely alive classmate in the woods. 

Motherfucking  _ fuck.  _

For the first time in his life, Jughead is thrilled to see flashing blue and red lights. The moment a deputy pulls as close to the clearing as he can, Jughead takes off. “I swear to god, I’ll be back,” he shouts in the general direction of the Sheriff’s department car. 

When he reaches the edge of the woods, gasping for breath and really wishing he’d taken Archie up on his offers to work out over the summer, Jughead pauses to debate if it’ll be faster to go to Serpent camp for his bike or to just hoof it to the Coopers’ from there. Going for his bike requires a bit of doubling back, but if Betty needs a fast escape from things, it’ll be better to have it. 

He groans when his phone vibrates with another message. He’s never felt more like scum than he does in this moment; he’s supposed to be  _ there  _ for Betty, after all the insane things she’s gone through in the last year, all the times she didn’t ask for help, and the one time she actually does, he is across town doing something completely idiotic. 

.

.

.

Given the speed he drives at once he’s on his bike, Jughead is lucky most of the Sheriff’s department is in the woods. He pulls into the Coopers’ driveway and parks haphazardly among what is way too many cars for the middle of the night on Labor Day. 

He busts through the front door to a far larger crowd than he’s expecting. Betty is huddled on the couch, glassy-eyed and in her pajamas, Alice is holding one of the twins and looks marginally relieved to see him, a tall man with graying hair and in a definitively cult-like get-up is perched on the couch next to Betty with a young girl hovering behind them both, and Polly is also in full cult garb, holding the other twin. She looks up at Jughead sharply, anger in her eyes, and he recoils a bit. He’s always known he’d never win over Alice, but Jughead thought Polly liked him. It appears he’d been wrong. 

Most worrisome of all is that Betty hasn’t moved, despite the racket he made coming through the door. He rushes over to her, elbowing the man and girl out of the way to kneel down in front of her. “Betts, what’s the matter, are you okay?” 

She blinks a few times, then registers who she’s looking at and her face crumples in relief before she starts sobbing. Bewildered, Jughead stands up to pull her to him and strokes her hair while she cries into his chest. 

“What the hell is going on?” he asks the room at large. 

“She’s fine,” Polly says, in a serene voice not befitting of the situation. “Just a little overtired and she collapsed coming downstairs to find us. We were in the back hosting a moonlight baptism for the babies.” 

“Collapsing doesn’t exactly sound  _ fine,  _ Polly,” Jughead snaps. 

The man in all white speaks up, his voice just as infuriatingly calm as Polly’s, though with a preachy edge to it that Jughead doesn’t like at  _ all.  _ “She’ll be perfectly okay. We’re trying to get her to have some of my oolong milk tea to help her get to sleep and she should be alright.” 

Jughead bites back an  _ and who the fuck are you,  _ and swivels to Alice, hoping that despite all the wacky anecdotes Betty’s mentioned, some semblance of the control freak Alice he knows and hates will make an appearance. She doesn’t, but to her extremely minimal credit, she looks more worried than Polly. 

“Not that  _ tea _ doesn’t sound like a good solution,” Jughead remarks snidely. “But if Betty collapsed she really needs to go to the hospital.” 

From where she’s cradled into him, Betty weakly shakes her head no and Jughead looks down at her in surprise. The way her eyes are wide with fear and full of tears gives her the air of a deer in headlights and all Jughead wants to do in this moment is keep her safe. 

Leaning in close and trying to shield her face from view so the others can’t see, he whispers, “Betts, come on, you need to see a doctor. We can’t have you collapsing on stairs, you could have really hurt yourself.”

She shakes her head no again, this time too vigorously because she winces and squeezes her eyes shut in pain. Her voice is small and scared when she whispers back. “I don’t want to get in trouble for the Adderall, Juggie.” 

Betty probably has a point there. But if she’s passing out and her head hurts bad enough that even slight movement puts her in pain, Jughead almost doesn’t care. As though she can read his thoughts, she says it again more firmly, but still whispering. “I don’t want to go to the hospital, Jug.” 

“Okay, okay,” he placates her. “Can we tell  _ them  _ you’re going so I can get you out of here?” 

Betty blinks and then hesitantly looks out of the corner of her eye to where the  _ Wild Wild Country  _ rejects are watching them both closely, clearly trying to eavesdrop. She nods, careful not to move her head too fast and Jughead’s heart thuds in worry. 

“Alright, Betts,” he says, louder so the whole room can hear him. “Let’s get you to the kitchen for some water while I grab some of your things and then we’ll get you to a doctor.” 

Polly makes a noise of discontent and the man and Alice start to protest. “Mrs. Cooper, come  _ on, _ ” he pleads in an exasperated tone. 

She gives the smallest of nods, to more protests from Polly. 

“Polly, give it a rest,” Betty finally snaps. Jughead smiles, happy to hear she sounds like herself. “I don’t want any of your damn tea. I want to go with Jughead.” 

“Drink some water, I’ll be right back.” He stamps a kiss on the crown of her head, glares at Polly and Alice, and then takes the stairs three at a time to Betty’s bedroom. Her school backpack is slung over the chair at her vanity, already filled with her supplies and books for the next day; Jughead smiles because for as much nonsense as goes on in this town, Betty Cooper is still Betty Cooper. 

He grabs that, adds her laptop and phone charger to the mix, and as many of her journals as he can. She’d told him about Alice invading her privacy— _ again _ —and even though the damage is done, for her sake, he wants to take them out of Alice’s reach. There’s a stash of extra clothes for her at the trailer, neatly taking up the smallest amount of space possible in his decrepit dresser, but he still finds another bag from her closet to add what he assumes was her outfit for school the next day and whatever makeup is loose on her vanity. This is a situation best suited for Veronica and Jughead figures he can send her in his stead in the morning if Betty is missing anything crucial before classes, but for everyone’s sanity, he wants to minimize morning panic. 

Upon his return to the living room, Betty has a death grip on her glass of water, drinking slowly from it and eyeing the mug placed in front of her on the coffee table with suspicion. 

_ Oolong tea, my ass,  _ Jughead snorts to himself.   

.

.

.

FP looks confused when Jughead trudges through the trailer door, Betty’s belongings in one arm and Betty herself supported by the other. The fresh air only served to calm her down, not wake her up, which Jughead supposes is better than nothing, so he steers her toward the couch and settles her with a blanket before following his dad into the kitchen. 

“Not that I don’t love Betty, kid, but am I gonna have Alice Cooper threatening my head on a stick again? What’s with all the bags?” 

Hard to believe that Jughead is thinking fondly of the time his girlfriend temporarily lived with them because of her  _ psychotic fake brother,  _ but here they are. At the rate this cult thing is spiraling out of control, Jughead almost wishes they were back in time by a few months. 

(At least Betty wouldn’t have the burden of knowing her father is a serial killer. At least  _ he  _ wouldn’t have the livelihoods of all his friends resting on his increasingly-exhausted shoulders.)

He scrubs a hand over his face before answering FP. “Honestly, I have no idea, Dad. Apparently she collapsed or passed out, or something. A bunch of those  _ farm  _ people were there, acting super weird, and she won’t let me take her to the hospital but she wanted to get out of there. So…” he blows out a breath and rests his forehead against a cabinet. “Here we are, I guess.”

FP gives a low whistle. “That poor kid can’t catch a break, good lord. You two take the bed, I’ll hit the couch once I get back.” At Jughead’s questioning look, he continues. “Someone’s sister or aunt or something or other is a nurse, I’m pretty sure. Let me see who I can track down if Betty’s refusing the hospital.” 

“Thanks, Dad.” 

“Get some rest, kid.”

As his dad slips out the door, Jughead fills a cup with more water for Betty and sits a pot on the stove to boil water for actual tea. From a bag. In a box. That he has personally purchased and knows to not be full of poison or drugs. 

Betty’s eyes are still tired when he joins her on the couch, but she looks a little more focused than she’d been back at her house. 

She takes the cup and starts to drink from it as though on autopilot. When Jughead asks her if she wants to talk about what happened, she shakes her head. Instead he brings her a mug of that god awful spearmint tea she likes, wraps her in one of the threadbare blankets from the couch, and ushers her onto the bed. 

Seemingly restless, she gets back up and starts to rifle through the dresser. Jughead watches in bewilderment as she strips off her pajamas—trying  _ very  _ hard to not focus on the bare skin of her back—and tugs on one of his worn shirts, the printed S barely showing up at all anymore.

He thinks she might be trying to distract him, and he’d be lying to say it’s not working. “I just sleep better in your clothes,” Betty shrugs before crawling in next to him and switching the lamp off. 

“Tease.” 

“Try me in the morning,” she giggles. Contrary to her statement, Betty actually climbs into his lap and kisses him soundly. He kisses her back, keeping his mouth closed, and rests his hands on her hips, decidedly above the fabric. She seems to take the hint that distraction-by-sex isn't something Jughead is going to tolerate tonight, huffs slightly, and then dismounts. He misses the heat of her in his lap instantly but knows this is not the moment to let his hormones rule over his brain.   

They shuffle around to get comfortable, Betty curling up under his arm to lay her head on his chest. Under the cover of darkness, he asks her again. “Betts, can you please tell me what happened? I know you said you’re fine but I’m really worried.” 

When she shifts to look at him, some of the moonlight filtering through the blinds reflects off her eyes. It’s like looking into a prism. Jughead could so easily get lost in her. 

Her voice is small again when she speaks, like she’s unsure of the words she wants to say. “I couldn’t sleep again but I think I must have been half-dreaming or something… but I heard noises and saw lights in the backyard. I guess that was the farm members or whatever. I don’t remember what happened, really. I was at the foot of the stairs and then all the sudden I was on the floor of the back hall and everyone was standing over me. I’m…” she falters, but finishes strong. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The concept that any of that is  _ nothing _ makes Jughead want to laugh. Betty can be so beautifully  _ stupid  _ when she’s being stubborn.

“That isn’t nothing, Betty.”

For a long moment, they breathe through the silence. Jughead runs his fingers through Betty’s mussed ponytail while she fiddles with the hem of his undershirt. “I know it’s not, Juggie.” 

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> always love to hear what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> I do actually have more emotions I want to write, so there's a good chance I'll still write a post-ep. but for now! enjoy! and please leave a comment if you do enjoy!


End file.
